صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Re-enter Provost

Prov. Are you agreed?

Clown. Sir, I will ferve him: for I do find, your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftner ask forgiveness.

Prov. You, firrah, provide your block and your ax to morrow, four o'clock.

Abbor. Come on, bawd, I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.

thief thinks it little enough; i. e. of value little enough. So that this fits the thief in his own opinion. Where we fee that the pleafantry of the joke confifts in the equivocal fenfe of big enough and little enough. Yet Mr. Theobald fays, he can see no fenfe in all this, and therefore alters the whole thus, Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. If it be too little for your true man, your thief thinks it big enough: if it be too big for your true man, your thief thinks it little enough. And for his alteration gives this extraordinary reafon. I am fatisfied the poet intended a regular fyllogifm; and I submit it to judgment, whether my regulation has not reftor'd that wit and humour which was quite loft in the depravation. But the place is corrupt, tho' Mr. Theobald could not find it out. Let us confider it a little. The Hangman calls his trade a miftery: the Clown cannot conceive it. The Hangman undertakes to prove it in these words, Every true man's apparel, &c. but this proves the thief's trade a mistery, not the bangman's. Hence it appears that the speech, in which the hangman proved his trade a mistery, is loft. The very words it is impoffible to retrieve, but one may eafily understand what medium he employed in proving it: without doubt the very fame the clown employed to prove the thief's trade a mistery; namely, that all fort of clothes fitted the hangman.The Clown, on hearing this argument, replied, I fuppofe, to this effect; Why, by the fame kind of reasoning, I can prove the thief's trade too to be a miftery. The other asks how, and the Clown goes on as above, Every true man's apparel fits your thief; if it be too little, &c. The jocular conclufion from the whole being an infinuation that thief and hangman were rogues alike. This conjecture gives a fpirit and integrity to the dialogue, which, in its prefent mangled condition, is altogether wanting and fhews why the argument of every true man's apparel, &c. was in all the editions given to the Clown, to whom indeed it belongs; and likewife that the prefent reading of that argument is the true. The loft fpeeches came in at the place marked by the afterisks.

Clown.

Clown. I do defire to learn, Sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you fhall find me (a) yare: for, truly, Sir, for your kindnefs I owe you a good turn. [Exit.

Prov. Call hither Barnardine, and Claudio:
One has my pity; not a jot the other,
Being a murth'rer, tho' he were my brother.

[blocks in formation]

Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death;
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?
Claud. As faft lock'd up in fleep, as guiltless labour
When it lyes ftarkly in the traveller's bones :
He'll not awake.

Prou. Who can do good on him?

Well, go, prepare your felf. [Exit Claud.] But, hark, what noife?

Heav'n give your spirits comfort!

I hope it is fome pardon, or reprieve,

[Knock within. by and by;

For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome, father.

Enter Duke.

;

Duke. The best and wholefom'ft fpirits of the night Invellop you, good Provoft! who call'd here of late? Prov. None, fince the curphew rung.

Duke. Not Ifabel?

Prov. No.

Duke. They will then, ere't be long.

Prov. What comfort is for Claudio?

Duke. There is fome in hope.

Prov. It is a bitter deputy.

Duke. Not fo, not fo; his life is parallel'd

Ev'n with the ftroak and line of his great justice;

Efa) pare; the old books. Vulg. yours.]

He

He doth with holy abftinence fubdue
That in himself, which he fpurs on his pow'r
To qualifie in others. Were he s meal'd

8

With that, which he corrects, then were he tyrannous But this being fo, he's juft. Now they are come. [Knock again. Provoft goes out.

This is a gentle Provoft; feldom, when

The fteeled goaler is the friend of men.

How now? what noife? that fpirit's poffeft with hafte, That wounds th' unrefifting poftern with thefe ftrokes. [Provoft returns.

Prov. There he must stay, until the officer

Arife to let him in; he is call'd up.

Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he muft die to morrow?

Prov. None, Sir, none.

Duke. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is, You fhall hear more ere morning.

Prov. Happily,

You fomething know; yet, I believe, there comes
No countermand; no fuch example have we:
Befides, upon the very fiege of justice,

Lord Angelo hath to the publick ear

Profeft the contrary.

[blocks in formation]

Duke. This is his lordship's man.

Prov. And here comes Claudio's pardon.

Mell. My lord hath fent you this note, and by me this further charge, that you fwerve not from the fmalleft article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumftance. Good morrow; for as I take it, it is almost day.

Prov. I fhall obey him.

8 meal'd] i. e. mingled.

[Exit Messenger.

Duke

Duke. This is his pardon, purchas'd by fuch fin,
For which the pardoner himself is in:
Hence hath offence his quick celerity,
When it is borne in high authority;

When vice makes mercy, mercy's fo extended,
That, for the fault's love, is th' offender friended.
Now, Sir, what news?

Prov. I told you: lord Angelo, be-like, thinking me remifs in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting on; methinks, ftrangely; for he hath not us'd it before.

Duke. Pray you, let's hear.

Provoft reads the letter.

Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon Barnardine: for my better fatisfaction, let me bave Claudio's head fent me by five. Let this be duly perform'd, with a thought that more depends on it than we muft yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.

What fay you to this, Sir?

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in the afternoon?

Prov. A Bohemian born; but here nurst up and bred; one, that is a prifoner nine years old.

Duke. How came it, that the abfent Duke had not either deliver'd him to his liberty, or executed him? I have heard, it was ever his manner to do fo.

Prov. His friends ftill wrought reprieves for him, and, indeed, his fact, 'till now in the government of lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. Duke. Is it now apparent ?

Prov. Moft manifeft, and not deny'd by himself. Duke. Hath he born himself penitent in prifon? how feems he to be touch'd?

Prov. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken fleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, prefent, or to come; infenfible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Duke. He wants advice.

Prov. He will hear none; he hath evermore had the liberty of the prifon give him leave to escape. hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awak'd him, as if to carry him to execution, and fhew'd him a feeming warrant for it; it hath not mov'd him at all.

9

Duke. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, Provost, honefty and conftancy; if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but in the boldnefs of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, who hath fentenc'd him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days refpite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtefie.

Prov. Pray, Sir, in what?

Duke. In the delaying death.

Prov. Alack! how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an exprefs command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my cafe as Claudio's, to crofs this in the smallest.

Duke. By the vow of mine Order, I warrant you, if my inftructions may be your guide: let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo.

Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will difcover the favour.

Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser, and you may add to it; fhave the head, and tie the beard, and fay 9 lay myself in hazard.] Metaphor from chefs-play.

« السابقةمتابعة »